The Truth of the Matter
by RomaniBliss
Summary: Edward has been taken from his world and into ours. He lived in Munich, Germany with Alfons Heidrich, and was seeking a way to overcome his sadness and feelings of loss. Not to mention his feelings for Alfons. He is now on his trek to America, and hoping to find a way to be happy again, with his brother, Alphonse, and their newfound gypsy friend, Keavy.
1. Truths

Truths

_ It's as though this is the dream, and I'm just waiting to wake up. Every day I sit here, and I look into my empty glass and think "What would my brother do if he were here, not me?"_

"Edward!" The door of the small bedroom swung open, and Edward, still in his boxers and nothing else, was sitting on the floor with an old, dusty type writer. His father had told him writing memoirs might make it hurt less. Then he disappeared.

"What?!" The golden blonde stood up, and brushed himself off, wiping the ink off his hands and onto his blue boxers. "What is it, Alfons? I was in the middle of something." He was being snippy today. Maybe it was because he had been thinking too much. Maybe he shouldn't have had that scotch. Still. He couldn't change the past. _No matter how_ ba_dly I want to._

"I've been calling you for the past ten minutes! Some girl is at the door to see you!" Alfons yelled back. There was a hint of jealousy in his voice. Which Edward thought was stupid, because Alfons was gorgeous, he could get any girl he wanted. He just didn't want any of them.

"A girl?" Edward grabbed pants and a shirt, and slipped them on as he walked out the door, pushing past Alfons. "That's weird, I haven't talked to any girls of interest since.." He paused. Since he had left his world. Since he had last seen his brother. Since he had left behind the people he loved in order to save his brother. He stood at the top of the stairs. "Since I talked to Gracia last!" He laughed, and shrugged it off. He realized it wasn't funny the moment he used it to cover his pain.

Alfons didn't laugh either. In fact, his blue eyes looked enraged, and his cheeks looked tear stained.

Edward blinked. "You okay?" He stared at his roommate, and went to put a hand on his shoulder.

Alfons flung it away. "No. I'm not okay. Just answer the God damned door." He was acting like a child now, and it was pissing Edward off.

He didn't respond, and turned to the door. He opened it, his shirt half unbuttoned, and the only thing there was a basket of cherries.

Edward stared. He picked up the basket, and closed the door. No note, no nothing. "Well, so there was no girl." He called to Alfons. "Unless by girl you meant fruit." He laughed, and set the cherries on the table in the kitchen. "Alfons?"

He looked around, and Alfons was sitting in the living room, curled up in a chair, breathing heavy and coughing.

"Alfons?" Edward walked closer. "You okay, pal—"

Alfons stood up swiftly, and grabbed Edward's right hand. He knew Edward couldn't feel it, so he squeezed the metal prosthetic with all his might. "Why did that girl say she knew you!?"

"There was no girl!" Edward protested, tugging on his arm. "Only cherries!"

"Who was she!" Alfons tried to yell, but it turned into a begging sort of whimper, as he placed his head on Edward's shoulder.

"W-what?" Edward looked down at his friend. He pulled him up by the shoulder, and looked into his deep blue eyes. "Alfons, what's gotten into you?"

Alfons slumped back down to the chair, and looked up at Edward, letting go of his arm. "First you're talking about this world I can never be a part of, dreaming to get back to your 'home', and now there are mysterious girls here to see you."

Edward sat on the table across from the chair. "What does that matter?"

Alfons looked at Edward incredulously, tears slipping from his eyes. "What does that matter?! Edward, you never listen!" He cried out. "Can you even imagine how I'm feeling right now?!"

Edward paused, confused, but he let Alfons continue.

"You never wanted to be part of this, you just want to get back to your home and leave this all behind!" Alfons went on, but it was twisted up, with sobs and whimpers and hiccups. Not to mention coughing. A lot of coughing.

"Al…" Edward whispered the nickname. It stung him. That had been his brother's nickname too. "No, I do want a part of this." He reached over to touch the young man's arm, with his left hand. Real human contact, that's what he needed. "I know this is all really hard for you, but I want to be part of this. With you."

"But I'm not your brother." Alfons fired at him, hatred in his voice.

"I don't want you to be my brother." Edward smiled at him softly. His eyes were tearing up now. Yes, he'd rather his brother be here than Alfons, but things were different with Alfons. "I… These feelings would be too strange if you were my brother." He gave a halfhearted laugh.

"Feelings?" Alfons sat up straighter, and his voice was softer, calmer.

"I care a lot about you, Alfons. In a different way than I do my brother." He began to attempt to explain. He knew his efforts would be futile.

"How- How so?" Alfons leaned in closer, and brushed the hair out of Edward's face, as he hadn't put his hair in a ponytail yet.

"In a different way." Edward stood up, and walked towards the room's exit. "A way I can't explain." Because he'd only felt them once, and they were only for someone he was so close to, that the he could still smell her, even when he dreamed.

"Why not!" Alfons stood up, and protested.

"Because I don't want to hurt you. I'm going back to bed." He walked back to his room, and shut the door, locking it this time. He sat down with his type writer, and began to type.

_ Now I understand. Now I know. Alphonse wouldn't have fallen in love. Unlike me._

And with that, Edward took up the piece of paper, and burnt it into his waste basket with a match. It fell into the tower of ashes, along with all the other three hundred pages of his memoirs.


	2. On the Rocks

She had been in the house all day. It was really starting to bother Alfons.

"So, Noah," Began the blonde, when he got home. "What have you… Um.. Been up to?" He glanced around the kitchen, where she sat at the table, and grabbed a glass and went to get some juice out of the ice box. His blue eyes flitted to the dark olive skinned girl, and he noticed that she was beautiful. He still didn't understand Ed's obsession with her. _Wow, that was bitter._

"I've been sewing." Noah smiled at Alfons appreciatively. She seemed surprised that someone actually took an interest in what she was doing. She held up a sheet of cloth, with embroidered roses on it.

Alfons nodded, and took a sip of his juice. "I see." He nodded after swallowing, before he jumped as he heard the door behind him shut.

"Hey Alfons! Hey Noah!" Edward walked into the room with a grand smile on his face. That type of smile that made Alfons weak in the knees. Or it would, if he wasn't so angry.

"Edward," Noah stood and brought her embroidered fabric with her. "Look what I've done today! Gracia is such a good teacher. Almost motherly." She smiled, looking almost giddy in showing him.

Edward looked at it, and smiled softly. "Yeah, she is." He looked nostalgic, and Alfons hated it. The memories he had from that other world must have been flooding his mind. It killed him.

"Hey, Noah," Ed shifted slightly, noticing Alfons's glare. "Uh, I think Miss Gracia needs you down in the shop for a moment. She mentioned it when I walked by." He was staring down at his feet, shuffling them slightly.

"Oh." Noah paused, and her look of concern gave way that she knew more than she would tell.

"Please, just for a second?" Edward pleaded with the distressed look in her eyes.

"Okay…" Noah left the kitchen and walked out the door, fast-walking her way to Gracia's shop.

"Okay, now." Ed sat down. "What's the deal, Alfons? You've been acting weird ever since Noah came about." He looked up at the lighter blonde, and frowned.

"She's a gypsy."

"She's a Roma." Ed interrupted. "There's a difference."

"No there isn't." Alfons rolled his eyes. "And she looks like that girl who brought the cherries last month." Alfons's eyes brimmed with tears that wouldn't fall, and he couldn't help feeling dejected.

"Please." Edward's golden eyes stared up at him, and they would've normally taken his breath away, if he weren't so mad. "Don't talk about that."

"First cherry girl, and now a gypsy!" Alfons was dropping low blows. "What next! You'll up and disappear to your "home world"?! I don't think so!"

Ed stood up. "What are you going to do about it…" He whispered, as though the sudden standing knocked the wind out of him.

"I—" Alfons started to cough. "I think," He began. "I think that you need to figure out what it is you want! A gypsy or-"

It was Edward's turn to roll his eyes. "A gypsy or you? Is that what you're getting at? Why are you so scared I'm going to up and leave?" He crossed his arms, and Alfons clutched his hands into fists.

"Yes!" Alfons slammed his hands down on the table. "I'm scared because that's all you ever talk about!"

Edward took a step back. "No need to get so angry," He said calmly. "I just wanted to know—"

"There is need to get angry!" Alfons sounded like he was begging. "You're replacing me with her and it's not okay!" Alfons flailed one of his arms, and started to cough again.

"I am not replacing you." Ed's tone was stern and his stance was rigid. "I would never replace you. Just like how I'm not using you to replace my brother." He coldly replied.

"Then what are you using me for?" Alfons spat at him.

"Well, here's the thing." Ed started. "I'm not using you. You're my friend. We care about each other. That's how things work. I don't use or replace you." He went on. "So get past this whole replacing you snag, and we can move forward."

"Why can't we talk about this!?" Alfons grabbed his left hand as he turned to leave.

That's when Edward spun around and softly put his prosthetic hand on his cheek. "We already have." Edward whispered, and kissed him softly.

Alfons sprung backwards after the kiss broke. "W-what…?" He looked at Edward, who was heading out the door.

"I'm going to get Noah. We're not talking about this again." He stated, and shut the door behind him.

"Ed, wait!" But his feet were already on the stairs.

It took Edward about an hour at the bar before he could taste anything but Alfons's lips. And he felt better off talking to Noah tasting like scotch than Alfons. When he got to the flower shop, he was woozy and tipsy, but could walk and talk. But he reeked of the alcohol, or, at least, he felt like he did.

"Noah!" Edward stumbled through the door.

"Edward!" Gracia helped steady him.

"Thank you," He paused. "Miss Gracia." He smiled at her.

"My God, Edward, how much did you have?" Noah came from behind the counter.

"Seven."

"Seven what?! Beers, I hope!"

"Scotch…" Ed paused. "On the rocks," He paused again, before he hiccuped. "Of course."

"Noah, take Edward back to the apartment, I'll close down early and meet you up there." Gracia turned and patted Noah's shoulder, before trading her Edward for the shop keys.

And Noah saw. She saw his feelings for Alfons. His pain in having those feelings. And his yearning to escape back to his home from them.


	3. Muster up the Nerve

It had been a month since Alfons had been shot, and his brother had come to this world. Edward looked down at the grave, and frowned. It felt like longer. Noah had gone and become an employee of Gracia's store.

"Brother?" Alphonse called from the greenery, from the point he stood at the side of the rode. "I don't mean to interrupt, but there's a car coming, and I think they might stop for us."

Edward frowned, and wiped mist from his eyes, and turned to smile at his brother. "Coming, Al." He ran up towards his brother, his brown coat blowing in the November wind. It was only going to get colder from here on out. He waved down the car, and jumped in shock, as the two people picking them up, though gypsies, looked familiar. The brothers looked at each other, both thinking of who they reminded them of. They shrugged it off.

"Where you two off to?" The man asked in a deep gravelly voice.

Edward jumped at the voice. "Um, France…" Edward began, before the woman turned around and smiled.

"As are we." She pulled down her hair scarf. "We're heading to the docks. Have you heard the whispers of war as well?"

Alphonse gasped, and nodded. "Yes. We're going to the docks to escape to America."

"Good luck." The man shook his head. "It seems like everyone's heading there."

The conversation went on as they went from town to town, until after five weeks journey they made it to the docks of France, and parted ways.

"Man, the food here is good." Edward grinned, biting into his third croissant.

Alphonse laughed. "It really is." He bit into his second sandwich, as they paid to board the ship to America.

"Hey, what's going on over there?!" Ed shouted and pointed as a girl was struggling as she was being hauled off the ship. He ran over before Alphonse could respond, his long blonde hair getting blown back in the harsh wind. Alphonse followed suit, his dirty blonde hair getting blown all around, though it was cropped short.

"Let me go!" The brunette girl struggled and yelled in English as the men tried to take her off the ship.

"Let her go!" Edward repeated, also in English, and the men stopped.

"Why should we? She has no money to be on this ship." One of the men sneered, his French accent thick and his English not very good.

Ed frowned and shoved a bag of coins at the man. The man examined it, muttered something in French, and the men dropped the girl on the hard wood of the ship, and stalked off.

"Ed, why'd you do that?" Al asked, helping the girl up.

"Yeah, why'd you do that?" The girl asked, straightening out her long black dress, before straightening her posture. She stood proudly at about five foot one, Ed noticed. She was pale in complexion but her features were dark. Dark brown hair, dark brown eyes, dark eyebrows.

_She'd be a goner back in Germany_. Edward thought, before speaking. "Because she could be useful to us. I've always found that gypsies make the best sort of friend."

"Gypsy?" She began to argue, then paused. "How'd you know?" She frowned, and raised a skeptical eyebrow. It was rare that people could see her heritage from her face. Most people assumed she was from southern France, or those who were even more intelligent (but not by much, from her perspective) guessed Italian.

Alphonse looked at her, and frowned as well. "You're a gypsy?" He took a second before she could respond, mumbling to himself. "I guess that makes sense. Hardly anyone would dare to make the trek from here to America on this boat without paying."

"Y-yeah." She shuffled her feet awkwardly, ignoring that jab at the stereotype that she had proven correct, and before smiling sheepishly at Edward. "I guess I owe you now. It costs a lot of gold to get on this ship."

Edward leaned in, and grinned. "Yeah, you do." He put a hand on her head. "You have any talents?"

Alphonse cocked his head to the side. What was his brother getting at?

"Yeah," The tiny brunette nodded shyly. "I can cook really well."

"Perfect!" Edward grinned. "Neither of us can cook. This means you'll come with us to America, and we'll pay for your room and board." He nodded to himself. "In return, you'll cook our meals."

"Brother!" Alphonse laughed. "Like a servant? That's a terrible idea."

"More like a slave, I was thinking." Ed laughed bitterly.

"Really, though, what are we going to do with her?" Al asked.

Edward shrugged. "Exactly what I said. She's our cook. Besides, we'll need a feminine touch for the apartment I landed us in a place not far off from New York."

"Really, where?" Alphonse and the girl asked in unison.

"Somewhere called Boston, Massachusetts." He shrugged. "Should be a good place." Edward grinned.

She frowned. "Irish."

"What?" The brothers looked from each other to the girl and back again.

"The Irish immigrate there more than the Germans. Why are you two going there?" Her frown deepened, but not by much. She had a good sense of telling where people were from. Mainly because her family had worked so hard on making sure she had nowhere to be "from".

Edward shrugged. "Because it's cheaper than New York City itself, and less dangerous than the other parts of New York."

Alphonse stared at him, and opened his mouth to speak, before Edward interrupted.

"I've done my reading Al. I've even gotten some American newspapers smuggled from Berlin." He grinned, digging his thumb into his chest.

Alphonse was frowning now. "How?" He was somewhat disappointed.

"Noah. She has a lot more connections than just us." The shorter of the two shrugged, and he turned back to the girl.

He noticed, in the moments that she hadn't been paying attention to him, her face was serene. Calm. But that frown persisted, a stark downward line across her porcelain skin. _Clear as porcelain_, He thought, _But white as an eggshell._ Edward shook his head, and let his golden orbs pour over her. She was very small, and her dress was very big. Long sleeves, long skirt, the only thing small about it was the waist, but that was because she had taken a silver ribbon and tied it tight under her chest. He blushed when she caught him staring, because he had stopped at her chest, because he, with an almost child-like curiosity, had been wondering if she were well endowed or not. He hadn't meant it to be perverse, he had simply been curious.

She crossed her arms over her chest and her frown formed into a snarl. Edward was ashamed to admit he jumped back a few steps when she spoke. "So who are you two, anyway? Please tell me I don't have to call you two "Master". Because I'd rather throw myself off this boat." She growled at them.

Alphonse let out a cheery laugh. She was trying so hard to be tough and defensive, that it made him smile. "I'm Alphonse Elric." He smiled at her, a soft, paternal smile. The girl couldn't help but nod and give a small smile in return.

"And I'm Edward Elric, his older brother." Ed stretched, trying for nonchalant, still embarrassed over being caught.

"Older?" She frowned, and gave a small, bitter laugh. "But you're so small in comparison to him."

Edward glared at her, and then Alphonse. Al stood at a proud six foot four inches, while Edward was still striving for that last inch to make him six feet tall. "I have my reasons for my height!" He grumbled, before shouting. "Besides, who are you anyway?! You're not that big yourself!"

She glared at him, before a glint took over her eyes. "Yeah, not in height." She shrugged, and whispered softly.

Edward blushed deeply, and Alphonse coughed awkwardly. "Sh-shut up! I wasn't even looking there!"

She let out a soft giggle, and turned to Alphonse. "Does he always react like this?"

Before Alphonse could answer, Edward turned to them both and grumbled, "Don't talk about me like I'm not around!"

She laughed again, and when she had finally calmed herself, she spoke with a soft tone. "Keavy." She answered.

"What?" Both brothers cocked their heads to the side, and stared at her.

"My name is Keavy." She shuffled her feet beneath her dress, and Edward furrowed his eyebrows as she spoke further. "It's an Irish name.—"

"But you're a gypsy." Edward finished her sentence, in unison with her. "And that's why you're so pale."

Keavy nodded. "Yes, my father was Irish." She frowned. "And he loved my mother very much. But an aristocrat couldn't wed a gypsy, I'm afraid." She told the story like it was no big deal. Like the love affair between the gypsy and the aristocrat wasn't one of a heated passion, or great betrayal. She told it like it was to her—Love and Loss. The love being her mother, and the loss being her father. "He's visited me a few times, told me all the time how much I looked like him." She rolled her eyes, disgusted.

"Do you have a last name?" Edward asked, while Alphonse nodded.

"No, not… Not really." She stammered, and looked downwards.

Edward frowned, and looked at Alphonse. She was such a sad, angry young lady. He hoped Alphonse understood why he wanted her to come with them, why he wanted her to stay with them. He had a sick need, a sick want, to protect her. To make sure nothing bad came towards her. It was all very primal and instinctual, almost like making love, Edward guessed. He had only had intercourse once, anyway. With a woman who did not love him back, nonetheless. She had been this world's Winry. How could he expect someone with her face, but not her mind, to love him? He shuddered at the thought, feeling sick to his stomach about giving himself away so freely, thinking she would love him at all.

He looked now to Alphonse, and spoke. "Al, let's grab her bags with ours, she can stay in our quarters."

"But there are only two beds." Alphonse cocked his head to the side, "And don't get me wrong, Keavy, you're very beautiful, but I just don't really…"

Keavy smiled, "Want to share a bed with someone you just met? I understand." She nodded. "I wouldn't either."

"Then I'll sleep on the floor." Edward grabbed her bags, they were surprisingly heavy so such small brown satchels. Edward frowned. "O-okay." He nodded at Al, as he tried to balance himself. "Let's do this." And the three began the trek down into the boat, into the corridors they would be sleeping in.

"Christ," Edward was picking up on the slang of this world quickly, "What do you keep in here—Rocks?" He said as he placed the two bags on the bed.

Keavy scowled, and placed the small bag she had been carrying of Edward's things onto the other bed. "Sometimes." She explained, and opened one of the bags to reveal glass bottles of plants and barks, colorful stones, and a red velvet pull-string bag. Edward reached his hand in to touch the velvet bag. Keavy quickly grabbed it from him.

"What?" Edward looked at her, frowning.

"These were my mother's… Only I may touch them." She explained.

"What are they?" Alphonse peered over, picking up a deep green rock.

"Runes." Keavy shrugged, and handed Edward a white rock. It was small and smooth, and was clearly worn down from people rubbing it with their thumbs.

"What's this?" Edward asked, he frown disappearing at being granted to hold something again.

"White quartz. For clarity of the mind." She turned to Alphonse, "That's Malachite." She pointed at the green stone.

"A copper carbonate." Edward nodded as Alphonse mouthed the words back to him.

Keavy looked at him inquisitively, but didn't say anything on the topic. "Malachite is used for security and protection. But be careful: It breaks when danger is on the way."

Edward laughed, "Stones that help the mind and tell the future? That's some…" He paused as Keavy raised an eyebrow at him. "Interesting stuff." He remembered the last time he doubted a gypsy. He wasn't going to be doing that again.

"Are we keeping them?" Alphonse paused, and asked Keavy about the stones.

"Of course!" Keavy said folding Edward's hands over his white quartz. "They're gifts!"

Edward cocked an eyebrow. "Gifts? For what?"

"For being kind to me…" She frowned, and stared down at her feet. "It doesn't happen often, so I thought I'd let you know that I appreciate it."

Edward nodded and Alphonse turned his stone over and over in his hands. These gypsy stories were all Edward and Alphonse had left of their world. This mysticism of being able to see into one's soul, like Noah, or use the energy of different stones, like Keavy. Edward could only wonder what other tricks the little gypsy had up her sleeve.


End file.
